


D&D Scenarios

by ThreeTimesCharmed



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 20:42:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12373665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeTimesCharmed/pseuds/ThreeTimesCharmed
Summary: A very casual work inspired by my Dungeons and Dragons campaign, The Cataclysm. This is not a consecutive work and will be updated sporadically.





	1. Andraste's Journal (1)

               The fire crackled against the blazing logs in the fireplace. The air smelled of a charred hickory and reminded me of the bonfires from when I was a child. As I gazed further into the red and orange flames, I very quickly became lost in my own thoughts. My comrades would have never noticed how distant I could become at times like these – but then again, normally these things happen when they are asleep and when I should be meditating. That is, how far my mind wanders when left to its own solitude.

               They may never know the ache that lingers in my heart, and should they know it, they will never quite _understand_ it. For who could understand what it is like to not only realize that you have outlived your family, but that you have outlived your entire generation. To make matters worse, in my particular case, this is not my only concern. One day, I will be alone, for one day I will be without my closest friend whom I consider my own _sister_.

               My people, the elven people, are blessed with longevity. For thousands of years we believed it was for the preservation of the world’s knowledge through our research and book-keeping. Such is my own role, that is, to be a scholar of the endless wisdom that finds its way to my doorstep. The elves proudly commit themselves to this path because it allows them a place in the cosmic scheme. I should be honored to be granted such a unique opportunity but, if I may speak only the truth, I have come to despise it.

               When I first began my path as a scholar, I never dreamed that, of all the things I had to be afraid of in my life, that it would be death – and not even my own death; the death of my loved ones. ‘Tis a fear that I have come to learn that I must face alone. I cannot dare let the secret escape my very breath or it may do more harm than good to those that I surround myself by.

               My heart aches the most for my closest friend, Page. Oh, how I wish I could tell her how much she _means_ to me. I spent a dozen years by her side as I conducted my research. Upon learning of The Cataclysm, I feared so much for this world, but I also feared for her. I dreaded telling her that I had made such a horrible discovery, and never once did I dream that dragging her along would lead her to be separated from those she loved most.

               We, as elves, have one flaw that I believe eludes us all. We never quite understand the concept of mortality, as we live so long that it never comes to be understood until we are nearing the end of our own lives in centuries later. Humans understand it much more than we do, as they are a race ridden with diseases and pains that elves never truly comprehend the full extent of. I can only ask for what reason I have discovered it now, and why?

               Before we all were sealed away from this world, in our ultimate battle to which we all shared a fear of death, I made it abundantly clear that I would not withstand the fall of my comrades. Such is why I openly sacrificed my life to ensure the security of Page. I cannot entirely recount my rationale, or how I even predicted such a strike, but I was sure that if she should find herself struck then we would be in a much different position today.

               Page is an interesting figure, as I do not believe she has fully grasped the extent of mortality quite like I have. Perhaps it is for the better. She has not yet recognized the tears that have begun to fall from my face when I am behind closed doors. I should hope she never does. I never want her to endure such a pain, although I only wish she could live this life with me. I am merely two-hundred years of age and, based on my estimation, she perhaps only has twenty or thirty years left to live before she will find herself crippled from her body’s degradation. Too many nights have I woken myself in a sweat over these thoughts, and I never want to find myself in this reality. She is too young, too naïve, and perhaps may never gain the wisdom that I have managed to achieve in over two hundred years. Yet she is wise in more ways than she may acknowledge.

               I believe that mortals with a shorter life span than the elves are perhaps one of the wisest species because they have a much greater grasp on that which we elves take too much of an advantage of. If our purpose is merely to gather knowledge, then are we destined to such a disappointing life where we must be forced to cut ties with those beyond our own race at each turn of a century? What sort of life is that to live, and what sort of happiness even is that? I am unsure if I could live with myself upon _her_ passing, and I fear my own insanity as a result.


	2. The Fallen Will Rise Again

 

> _On the first page of our story_  
>  _The future seemed so bright_  
>  _Then this thing turned out so evil_  
>  _I don’t know why I’m still surprised_  
>  _Even angels have their wicked schemes_  
>  _And you take that to new extremes_  
>  _But you’ll always be my hero_  
>  _Even though you’ve lost your mind_

 "Love The Way You Lie, Part 2" - Rihanna

She lay in bed within the elven village, her hair kept by the nurses that had come in from one day to another to examine her condition. Her breathing was still slowed and her skin still more pale than even her own race. The room around her injured entity was calm, as if each day the staff tending to her health was holding a breath.

For a few days now, the young elf, Andraste Galanodel, had been in the care of medics after being struck down by the beast that would be known to legend as Cataclysm. With merely a moment to act, Galanodel sprinted to take what was anticipated to be a fatal blow to save the cleric of her allies. In order to ensure the success of her comrades and see to it that the apocalypse was prevented, she moved forward to take the strike; that is, the claw of the Beast struck through her chest and pierced deep into her body, leaving her to die honorably as a martyr of the cause.

Yet, it was this notion that saved them all. It was with this movement that her remaining comrades found their strength to defeat the Cataclysm once and for all. Their swift actions in response to the urgency of their dying friend gave them a newfound strength that had almost entirely faded from hope, and thus they were able to prevent the End. The world would live to see another day, but it was not without consequence.

 _“Andraste!”_ yelled the young tabaxi as she returned to her friend’s side. _“Please… Please…!”_ Her friend had offered the cleric the last of her strength so that she may return to the battle without injury, but even the elven woman was fading.

She muttered quietly, coughing blood painfully from her lips, _“P-Page… I’m so proud of you…”_ Galanodel smiled gently, slowly but carefully moving her right hand up to Page’s feline face. As she had done playfully in previous days, she scratched her friend behind the ear teasingly. The tabaxi purred gently, but not without pain in her face.

 _“N-No, I’m not losing you, Andraste!”_ She moved sharply, putting her hands over the wounds on Galanodel’s chest. She began the healing process with her clerical knowledge, but as she did she felt her own magic drain to near depletion.

 _“Page… I told you I’d never leave you… And that isn’t going to change…”_ The elf’s strength wavered, and as her vision faded she spoke in her elven tongue so that only Page could hear, _“Usstan ssinssrigg dos, dalninil.”_   To Page, this translated to “I love you, sister” and she knew it ever so well. As Galanodel muttered these last words, she fell unconscious and her soft hand fell from the feline’s face.

In the paralyzing moment of believing her friend was dead, the cleric panicked. She shouted and cried for the loss of her friend, a hand from her soldier comrade, Xarakos, found its way to her shoulder. _“Is she truly…? Did you check…?”_

The cleric was almost frozen but by being taken from her fear by his words she stopped and listened carefully to Galanodel’s chest. Indeed, she was breathing but barely. Page’s magic had prevented her death yet for how long she was unable to predict. It was then they set off immediately to see to it that Galanodel was treated… and if she would survive.

Thus, then brings the story to the local elven village, Matoa, where the saviors of the world were recuperating. As they recovered, one member still stirred almost restlessly. That is, the tabaxi cleric, Page of a Book, who was consistently watching over her comatose friend. She had been by the elven woman’s bedside since arrival and had refused to leave her since then. However, these days of little to no sleep in both worry and fear had exhausted her. At the edge of twilight, she was already asleep and had passed out from exhaustion hours before.

It was in that moment, as the village began to settle in and a fireplace was lit to the room for light, that one entity shifted. A female medic arrived in to adjust the blankets of the unconscious patient and then stepped over to wrap a light blanket around the visitor by her side. As she did this, however, a faint mutter was heard. This voice was light, almost audibly painful, but the words uttered could not be deciphered. In surprise, the nurse peeked over. For the first time in days, Galanodel began to stir slightly, pulling a pained hand to her chest and ran her fingers over the bandaging of her stripped chest.

“M-Miss?” she spoke in surprise. She ran over to the woman to take her hand as to prevent her from removing the bandages instinctively. “Miss, can you hear me?” The medic pushed the stray strands from Galanodel’s face gently as the elf’s eyes slowly opened.

“Who… What…?” she muttered.

The medic smiled and began to visibly tear up. “Miss Page!” she called out.

The tabaxi stirred immediately. “Huh? Wha-?” She had been startled and looked over, spotting the location of the medic.

Galanodel looked over slightly, though her vision still slightly blurred from sleep. “P-Page…?”

Page stopped immediately and then raced to her feet, going to her friend’s side. The medic stepped away instantly, leaving to fetch water and the teammates that were just outside having a meal.

“Page… Everything hurts…”

Despite knowing her friend was beyond sore and in pain, she hugged her immediately and albeit slightly more tightly than she should have. Tears flooded her eyes. “Andraste!” she mewed. “Andraste… we thought you had died!”

“What h-happened…?”

“I… I can explain everything later. For now, just rest, Andraste… You’re going to be okay now…” She sat beside her and held her friend’s hand tightly, merely thankful for their lives.


	3. For Page

_“Page— No!”_

My body moved on its own, racing to come between her and that gigantic beast. I pushed her back and took the strike head on, the cataclysmic beasts striking its claws across my tunic and into my pale flesh beneath. Time seemed to have stopped in that moment as the beast raked into my skin, perhaps reaching through my heart itself, and then released with blood dripping down my own chest.

There was a shout that almost deafened my ears. Suddenly I was on the ground and numb to the core; my entire insides were searing with pain and when I glanced briefly my hands were stained with blood. For a moment, I could hardly recall what I had done.

_“Andraste! Andraste, please don’t die!”_

Someone had pulled me from my side, but I was blinded by the ache within. My body had tensed up that even my own throat failed me when my body urged it to scream. My vision was blurred, and sounds began to drift farther away.

_“Focus on my voice! Andraste, wake up!”_

The sensation of a familiar soft texture found its way to my face and brought me back to attention. I was losing consciousness. _Am I dying?_ I asked myself silently.

 _“P-Page…”_ I muttered, coughing blood up from my lungs. Every ounce of my body ached with searing pain. It was in that moment I recalled what I had done. I had taken the fatal blow, saving Page, my closest friend, from what I thought would be certain death. To know that she would live to see another day brought a pained smile to my face.

 _“I’m not losing you, Andraste… Why did you do this?!”_ She was stricken with panic and I sensed it with what was left of my fading mind.

With what was left of my remaining energy, painfully I reached up to touch the side of her face with a bloodstained hand and gently ran a finger behind her tabaxi ears. It was a loving gesture I had once teased her with. “ _B-Because I love you… You’re like a sister t-to me…”_ In that moment I tried to offer a small smile, but everything quickly faded away.

 

I was drifting through a black space. _Is this death?_ I had no way to be sure. My body drifted what felt like an eternity. It was… peaceful. I felt no pain. There was no chaos. It was simply calm. I embraced it for some time, allowing it to drench my being in the serenity, until a light came upon me in the distance like a star would on a moonlit night.

For a time, I watched it, and, out of curiosity, I reached for it only to realize that I was slowly approaching it in the drifting space. Staring at it made me want to reach out for it even more, yet around me there were distant echoes. I could not make out the voices, but even I knew them to be familiar no matter how far away.

As I drifted closer to the light, it was in a single moment that I felt a tug on my body, my very soul, that stopped my movement and from in my chest lit a golden light. It encompassed my entire being and blinded my vision. Suddenly I was returned to the darkness but without the white nor golden light.

 

An eternity later, once more the sounds returned. I tried to call out to them, but I could not hear my own voice. I stirred slightly, trying to break myself from the darkness.

I opened my eyes and found myself blinded from an unknown source. All was blurry and any sound I attempted to make came out broken and hoarse, as if my own voice had fled from me.

_“She’s awakened! Miss Page! Mister Simeron, Miss Kaffee!”_

There was a sound of shifting, and as my vision came clear slowly, I looked over to my side. I was surrounded by familiar faces.

 _“Welcome back to the land of the living, my friend,”_ spoke the familiar male comrade.

 _“Andraste!”_ mewed a voice to my opposite side.

It was because of her I would never forget the value of mortality. Indeed, I was alive, but I would never forget the price that was nearly paid to save her. I vowed I would never forget that day, and I would forever bear the scar to prove it. It was the day I had given my life to protect hers.


End file.
